


Breeze in the Spring

by graphic_winged_observer



Series: Within the Walls of 221b [8]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Fluff, Gen, M/M, Mechanic John, Robot Sherlock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-06
Updated: 2012-09-06
Packaged: 2017-11-13 16:10:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,633
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/505334
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/graphic_winged_observer/pseuds/graphic_winged_observer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the midst of a Spring rain, John does something that Sherlock can't understand, though that doesn't stop him from trying.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Breeze in the Spring

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ticktockclockwork](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ticktockclockwork/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Landslide](https://archiveofourown.org/works/421331) by [ticktockclockwork](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ticktockclockwork/pseuds/ticktockclockwork). 



> The characters of Sherlock Holmes and Dr. John Watson created by Sir Author Conan Doyle.  
> The setting of Sherlock (BBC) created by Steven Moffat and Mark Gatiss.  
> I do not own these characters, I’m just borrowing them for this idea.  
> Original concept belongs to ticktockclockwork, I'm just borrowing it for a bit.

The clouds shifted suddenly, causing the mechanic to look up from his laptop. He peered out the windows onto Baker Street to find that the fluffy white clouds of the morning had turned dark and were threatening an afternoon rain. A slow smile crept along John Watson's lips. He adored Spring rains, even potentially heavy ones. As a rumble of thunder and distant lightning announced the weathers intentions, something in the back of his mind warned him to turn off all the electronics he could and find out where Sherlock was hiding.  
  
He saved his report to Mycroft; only have finished, and promptly shut down his computer as lightning streaked across the sky, striking some tall building not too far away. John went around the flat, pulling all the curtains closed, the sudden wind picking them up and drifting them into the room. He grinned at the action and quickly went upstairs to his room. He shivered upon meeting the cool breeze at his window, the rain turning into a fine mist as the wind carried it through the screen.  
  
Thunder rumbled directly overhead, shaking the flats thin walls and continued for a long while. John snapped his window shut as the rain began to pelt down, blurring the glass. A rain like this was never uncommon for London and John always enjoyed them. He heard something topple downstairs and quickly made his way back to the sitting room, finding the wind had blown the coat rack over and a number of loose papers from the desk he and Sherlock Holmes shared; not that Sherlock needed it, he just like sitting across from John when he wrote up his reports to his creator. Just as John was contemplating closing the sitting room windows a bit, the rain eased up and became intermittently heavy.  
  
"Or you know, that works," he commented at the weather. He was setting the coat rack right when a tone rang from his pocket. John pulled his mobile out to find a text from Mycroft awaiting his answer.  
  
 _Where's Sherlock? - MH_  
  
 _I was just about to check. - JW_  
  
He sighed with a smile as he texted back. He could already see the text he was about to receive; especially when you consider that John was given explicit instructions to stay with Sherlock at all times.  
  
 _What do you mean "check"? Aren't you with him? - MH_  
  
 _I mean check his location on the app I created for occasions such as this. I can't keep my eye on him all the time. I do have to sleep. - JW_  
  
 _He slipped out sometime this morning. - JW_  
  
He opened the app and ignored the texts from Mycroft as the locator took several minutes to pinpoint Sherlock Holmes, almost an hour out of London. John went back into his messages to find several from the creator.  
  
 _Maybe I should hire a second mechanic so things like this don't happen. - MH_  
  
 _Where is he? - MH_  
  
 _Are you ignoring me, John? - MH_  
  
 _John!? - MH_  
  
 _I wasn't exactly ignoring you. Any disruption of the app and things go sour. He's out of the storm and about an hour North of London. - JW_  
  
A strong gust blew a fine mist into the room, making John shiver as he walked into the kitchen to make himself a nice hot cuppa.  
  
 _What is he doing out there? - MH_  
  
 _Hell if I know, you won't give him access to a mobile. Otherwise I'd text him and ask. - JW_  
  
 _Don't get snarky with me, Watson. - MH_  
  
 _Sorry, Mycroft. The app says he's fine, he's out of the rain. Chances are he'll be taking the tube back shortly and be home soon. - JW_  
  
 _I'll take care of him if there's any problems. - JW_  
  
 _You had better. - MH_  
  
John huffed at the final text, knowing better than to send another message back. He waited patiently for the kettle to boil and opened the app once more to locate his charge. It took several minutes to locate him again, still an hour North. The antique kettle whistled and John made himself some tea; sleepy time, if he read the box correctly. He settled into his armchair and stared at the place Sherlock usually sat, the deep impression made by the android was impressive and it made John smile as he sipped his tea.  
  
The blip on his app began to move as Sherlock made his way for home, surely understanding that he was most likely to attract lightning as he walked. Though John knew he'd ignore that fact and continue into the storm, if something did happen to him; shorted out by lightning, John would certainly be able to help him back to normal.  
  
If there was in fact normal for Sherlock Holmes.  
  
He finished his tea and set the empty cup on the coffee table nearby. He placed his mobile beside the cup, turning the ringer all the way up in case there was a problem with Sherlock. His head rested against his fist, his elbow resting comfortably on the arm of his well worn chair. A lazy grin on his face as John surveyed the Spring rain beyond the open windows of the flat. The curtains billowed into the sitting room as John's mind drifted to a question Sherlock had asked him several months ago. Why did he close the shades but leave the windows open in the Spring?  
  
The question buzzed about John's brain, bouncing off multiple answers to the query. He'd told Sherlock that it was the only way he could see the wind, but maybe he just liked watching the fabric floating through the air as breeze after breeze gently accosted it. Maybe it was because of the calming noise the breeze and fabric created when they moved in harmony. Maybe it was because John became easily hypnotized by the shifting material, it never took the same path, never became the same shape. It was unpredictable, a lot like Sherlock.  
  
John's smile widened as the wind and rain intensified, so he closed his eyes and listened to the noise and music of London. It didn't take him long to fall into the grip of the sandman, it took even less time for him to begin to dream.  
  
A crash of thunder announced the androids return home some time later, though John didn't stir from his peaceful rest. Sherlock nearly burst into the flat at the lack of noise from his partner. He stutter stopped upon seeing his mechanic smiling in his sleep. Sherlock removed his wet coat; which was dripping heavily to the floor, before moving to his own chair across from John.  
  
His pulse was calm and his eyes were beginning to spin about in their sockets as he hit REM sleep. The smile perplexed Sherlock greatly, who'd rarely seen his John smile in his sleep. He looked to the windows as the curtains billowed into the center of the room once again and thought this was the reason John was smiling.  
  
On a number of solo occasions, Sherlock had tried to figure out; in other words experiment, why John opened the windows and left the shades closed. All times he'd failed to come up with some rational reason for the action. Maybe it was time he experimented with his mechanic present. He steepled his fingers; a "restful" position for him, eying the curtains as they crossed into his peripheral. He calculated everything about the motion.  
  
A way to see the wind.... That can't be all it is. Sherlock noted that this was the fourth time in as many weeks that John had fallen asleep to the breeze as a mighty gust blew through the flat; spaying rain through the screen in a fine mist. Sirens blared passed their home, Sherlock could hear five pedestrians outside, as well as the rat in the ceiling; making a note to remove it later. No matter how long he sat there listening the way John listened, looking the way John looked; or at least if he was awake how he'd be looking, Sherlock would never see nor hear it the way John did.  
  
He sighed and closed his eyes, hoping the loss of one sense might help Sherlock to understand his mechanic, his John, a little better. He heard the rain better, the wafting of the curtains sounded louder, but it didn't improve the situation any, he was still seeing it with calculations. Sherlock huffed in frustration, waking John.  
  
"Hullo," he said in a groggy tone.  
  
"Why do you do this?" Sherlock waved his long fingers to the windows.  
  
John smiled, standing to stretch. "Because." He turned from his partner; who wore a look of disdain at the answer, and walked to the kitchen.  
  
"That. Is a five-year-old's answer, John," Sherlock shot back. His mechanic turned to face him from the fridge, an enigmatic look upon his weathered face.  
  
"I can't explain it. It's just something I enjoy doing," John replied softly, breaking Sherlock's stern face in an instant. "I'm sorry," he genuinely apologize; which only served to irritate the android further. John sighed through his nose, trotting back to Sherlock, taking his face by the chin and gazing into his impossible eyes. There was something there, deep in those hazel spheres that Sherlock wanted to know. John leaned down, placing his warm lips to Sherlock's artificially soft tips. There was a desperation in this kiss and it frightened the android. When John broke the kiss, he gazed at his partner; whose brow was knit together.  
  
"Humans are impossible to know, especially...all of them, everything they are. Just too many complexities, too many calculations, too many complications. Be happy knowing what you do, it's its own miracle." He planted a smiling kiss on Sherlock's lips. "And remember, you learn something new everyday."


End file.
